


The Brother, The Liar, The Lover

by MsMellowMeadow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Doubt, F/M, M/M, POV First Person, Paris (City), Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMellowMeadow/pseuds/MsMellowMeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Estranged brothers meet in the corrupted city of love. The foundations reek of doubt and lies, rotten love and cigarettes. What remains left to be found ?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Brother, The Liar, The Lover

When I first arrived in France, my heart was filled with hope. In only two months’ time, I and my beautiful Kali would be wed. I would be known as the most thoughtful husband in the long history of married men. How many of them had ever thought of getting their wife's wedding dress straight from Paris? I was willing to believe I was the only one. Fully armed with numerous choices picked by Kali, I was allowed to make the final choice. Despite the threat to my masculinity, I felt immensely proud of myself.

 

Plus, I would finally, finally see Luca again. My older brother by six years had moved to France five years ago and I had yet to see him or his new lodgings. My childish streak of curiousness was once again fully awake. Not that it ever really slept, but still. My patience was about to be rewarded as I waited in the arrival hall at Charles Degaules airport near Paris.

 

"Gabriel! Over here! _Michel, allez!"_

 

 Maybe it was the ridiculously long flight or the numerous gin-tonics I enjoyed on the plane, but was that a man Luca dragged through the masses of people? After all these years I had been dying to meet Michel, Luca's long-time lover, the one he flaunted about every now and then. But please.... How was I supposed to know it wasn't a fucking chick?

 

 Oh screw this.

 

Dragging my older brother to a bear hug seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. And of course, casting looks to the guy standing quite awkwardly beside us. Well, at least the guy looked pretty enough. Wouldn't want Luca to get together with some ugly 40 year old gay guy. Not that Luca probably ever would.

 

"Look at you! Oh, my cute little bastard brother. How the hell did you manage to bag a chick already?”

 

"God only knows why you haven't yet?"

 

Why, oh why, did I just say that? A frown marred my brother's face as he tried to read my expression. I quickly beamed a smile, trying to laugh it out and luckily, Luca followed my example.

 

"You see, little brother that I have found something much better. _Michel, meet Gabriel, the long awaited little brother of mine."_

I had no idea what my brother said to the man, only catching my name and French chattering, but when he stood in front of me smiling and offering his hand to me, it didn't take long of me to catch on. But long enough for Michel to give me a strange look.

"Nice to meet you. Luca tell me a lot about you... Uh, great you came."

 

Wonderful. The guy couldn't even speak, let alone pronounce, proper English. Awesome. Just fucking awesome. Mustering up a painful smile and muttering a thank you, I looked around as Luca beamed at Michel, obviously proud of his demonstration. Mumbling something more to him in French, Luca brought a hand to Michel's hip and motioned for us to go.

 

This was going to be a lovely vacation.

 

_"If the Lord should bring a wicked man to heaven, heaven would be hell to him; for he who loves not grace upon earth will never love it in heaven."_

_-Christopher Love_

 

The apartment was slightly cramped but furnished with good taste. It reeked of cigarettes, but since Kali smoked herself, I found myself ignoring it pretty quickly. While Luca took my suit-case to the guest room, I followed Michel to the living room where he motioned me to sit down. He opened the balcony door, letting the fresh morning air stream in. Paris truly looked beautiful in the morning light.

 

"Would you... have some cafe?"

 

I couldn't help but to make a snide remark.

 

"You mean coffee? Would I like to have some coffee?"

 

Michel stared at me like I just spit out the greatest mystery known to man. Seriously, how could anyone stand this guy? I was just about to call Luca over to translate, when Michel grabbed my arm and dragged me up from the comfortable couch all the way to the small kitchen. Damn, he was strong for such a thin looking guy. Guess he was fit.

 

"Do you want to drink this?"

 

_The guy actually shoved a regular looking jar of coffee powder in front of me. And looked at me like I was a grade A idiot. But not necessarily in a bad way, but rather a "it’s okay, I understand you're missing half of your brain cells." kind of way. I couldn't help but to feel insulted._

 

"Yes please."

 

Michel nodded then and turned back to the coffee. I slouched back to the living room where I noticed my brother talking heatedly in French with someone on the phone. Upon noticing me entering the room, he gave a quick smile while mouthing something about not taking too long. I decided to take the opportunity to check my emails and sending Kali a quick message that I had arrived and found my brother without any complications. She tended to worry. Especially since she pretty much considered me the biggest airhead in the history of men. I stepped out on the balcony to truly appreciate the beauty that Paris held. The l'arc de triumph stood proudly in the east. This city was in a class of its own.

 

"Beautiful, isn't it? It still is hard for me to understand why we left this city in the first place. I would've been much happier here."

 

Luca stepped onto the balcony as well. He had a point. It seemed like a strange choice, to leave Paris behind and move to Detroit. Alas, that was exactly what our parents had done. Luca and I were both born in France but when I was in the tender age of two, we left the city of love for good. It was especially hard for our father, who had lived here for his entire life. I couldn't remember anything at all yet Luca always insisted his true home was here. I couldn't really blame him.

 

"So, what do think of the place? A little rustic, yeah, I know. But still, sentimental value you know?"

 

"It's really nice. Looks a bit like you. The Chesterfield couches, you know... But what do you mean with sentimental value?"

 

"What! You simple little bastard, we used to live here! It's our old flat. Awesome, isn't it? Kinda wanted it to be a surprise for you."

 

_It felt strange. Yet it helped see the place in a totally new light. I knew that I never could really relate to how Luca felt about leaving France behind. I was so young, completely incapable of remembering anything about our life here. But still Luca's actions surprised me. He never was the sentimental type. Hell, I didn't even know he was the ass-pirate type. I couldn’t help but to start feeling like this guy was a stranger to me._

 

It might have been my brother's blond unruly and curly hair with his wickedly blue eyes that always seemed to sparkle with mischief in front of me, but I had never felt so far away from him.

                                         

Then I knew I had to come out with it. This couldn't really go on any longer.

 

"Why didn't you tell me about who Michel really was? For Christ sake, you talked about _HER_!"

 

Luca sighed and moved back inside. I followed him immediately, having a hard time clenching down my anger. I had been in Paris for three hours, and already things had cooked over. I just needed an explanation from Luca.

 

"Look, I just... I chickened out. After the first email, I just felt like you made the assumption, I didn't feel like pulling the rug from under you. I wanted to tell you face to face and I... You know what, I'm sorry. I really am."

 

I had no idea what to say, I wasn't really sure whether I was angry about the Michel thing, or just about the years I was forced to spend without Luca. I was only 19 when Luca left, and it was hard.

 

" _Pardon... Luca?"_

Speak of the devil. I was beyond irritated when the **little French hooker,** thank you very much that is his new name, poked his head into the living room. He gestured for Luca to come with him to the kitchen, looking mildly alarmed. Luca sighed, but seemed to understand the severity of the situation. Which I, by the way, didn't get at all.

 

"I'm sorry, Gabe. Just let me go talk to him for a while. We've got some work-related things to... you know, figure out. And the guy on the phone wasn’t all too happy with us taking our sweet time. Fucking idiot, calling Micha on that one..."

 

"Micha? You call yourself Micha and Luca? Here I thought sharing my chocolate with Kali made me a wuss.... But whoa."

 

"Gabe, I don't have time for this. When I am done with that, we'll sort this out. But for now, _ferme ta guele!_

_"For love is immorality."_

_Emily Dickinson_

A lovely dinner in an excellent restaurant in the heart of Paris would usually sparkle everyone's interest. I would normally be inclined to agree with them. But not today, no sir.

 

There I was, in some fancy French bistro with my brother and his French hooker. Oh yeah, I was still calling him that. Sitting there like nothing's wrong, smiling at Luca every now and then. He acts like his fucking wife or something. All dressed up and his dark brown hair, curled like a woman's. The guy has the ultimate she male hair, well past his elbows. I can't believe this.

 

Oh god, I have to stop this obsessing now. A new bottle of the sauvignon Blanc wouldn't hurt.

 

"Luca, you wouldn't mind ordering some more wine? Can't seem to figure out how to do it on my own."

 

"Sure. You okay with the sauvignon Blanc?”

 

"Uh-huh."

 

Awkward. Luca was still pissed from our conversation earlier. No problem, seeing as I was too. Even though the food was more than delicious, I didn't seem to be able to digest anything else than the wine. Luca had been talking on the phone almost through the entire dinner, and the French hooker seemed to have smoked an entire pack of red Marlboros and ignored his escargots.

As for me, the wine started finally to kick in.

And boy, was I a happy camper. What better way to spend an evening with your brother, and his hooker, whom you are not talking to, than drunk.

 

"So... you never mentioned what line of business you're in nowadays?"

 

"Sure I did. In the emails. Retail."

 

Oh, Luca's usual technique. Small answers, and the typical arched eye-brow. I had kind of missed that. Every time I had pissed off Luca that was what I would instead of real conversation.

 

"...okay. So, Michel, what do you do for a living?”

 

I swear, the guy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Apparently, he had wished to keep himself out of the conversation.

 

"...uuuh, my father, he have a company and I work there before. Not now. I do small... jobs, every now and then."

 

Oooh, like being my brother's hooker and leeching of him? Cute.

 

"Are you going somewhere with all this, Gabriel? Or do you just enjoy being a smug bastard?"

 

"You know, that was kind of cold. I was just making friendly conversation with your boyfriend there."

 

"Friendly conversation? Right. What does it matter to you what Michel does for a living? I get that you are angry at me, sure. But do you really have to be a prick to him?”

 

**Oh, don't tease my pretty little Micah**. Jesus, Luca. But then again maybe he had something of a point. But then again I don't really care right now. What I do care about is fact the fact that I really needed to go to the bathroom.

 

"If you will excuse me, I need to visit the men's room."

 

Luca made a small shrug and gestured to the staircase in the back of the room while Micha simply lit another cigarette. I hurried to the staircase, only to glance back at the table, watching my older brother caress Micah’s cheek and smile at him.

 

I was not happy with this at all. All I can do is pray that the hooker doesn’t feel like dessert.

 

_“No, I am not bitter, I am not hateful, and I am not unforgiving. I just don't like you.”  
-C. JoyBell C._

 


End file.
